It's Love
by ifithasapulse
Summary: There's a break-in at the Batcave and what follows is very unpredictable.
1. It's Complicated

"I hate it when you talk down to me like that."

"I'm not talking down to you."

"Yeah, you are."

"I'm just saying that Eskrima sticks are better than bo staffs any day of the week."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Prove it."

"Make me."

"Maybe I will."

"I dare you."

Dick paused and, looking at Jason's stubborn expression, gave in. "Fine."

He launched himself onto Jason's torso, slamming them both down onto the pristine cream leather couch and sending four throw pillows flying.

"Christ," Jason gasped as his back hit the sofa, the impact momentarily driving the air out of his lungs.

Then, with the speed and grace of one used to such situations, he flipped Dick over so that he was on top, pinning him down with his elbows and knees while he grinned in victory.

"And this round goes to…Jason," came Cassandra's voice from the doorway. Both boys' heads whipped around in surprise, Jason's eyebrows shooting up and Dick's eyes widening.

"Sparring so early isn't good for you," she informed them rather primly, seating herself comfortably on the couch opposite. "Especially on an empty stomach."

"Have you eaten yet," asked Dick, who had managed to wriggle out from beneath Jason and plopped himself beside his brother. He stood and retrieved a few of the couch pillows.

"Just did," she responded. "Alfred made blueberry pancakes. Bruce left about half an hour ago for work and I think Tim and Stephanie left for school around the same time. It's only eight."

Dick nodded, prodding Jason's legs which he had positioned so that his entire six foot frame took up the whole of the couch's space and effectively kicked Dick out. "Why aren't you two in school today?"

"We finished exams early," Cassandra answered. Jason grinned tauntingly at Dick and stretched leisurely, his feet dangling off the edge of the sofa. Dick growled.

"Come sit next to me," Cassandra offered, patting the five feet of empty space beside her.

"No thanks," Dick politely declined. "I think I'll go get breakfast, actually. See you two later."

Jason shot him a smirk as Dick left, heading towards the kitchen and calling for Alfred.

"So," Jason began. "How are you?"

In the three years that Jason had been living in the Manor, he had seen Bruce and Alfred daily, seen Dick when he visited every few months, and Babs every weekend, usually more. The more recent additions to their rather exceptional family had come in the form of Tim Drake, the fifteen year old athlete and brilliant detective and computer expert, and Cassandra Cain, the beautiful and talented young daughter of the dangerous world-class assassins, David Cain and Lady Shiva. She was now twelve and going to the same private school that Stephanie Brown attended. Stephanie was another new recruit, an acrobat and skilled street fighter. She was in the same grade with Tim and went to the accompanying all girls private school across from Tim's private boys school. In his typical fashion, Bruce had taken them all in.

Their family was now very large, although the only ones he felt actually _related _to were Bruce, Dick, and Barbara. The others were like extremely close friends that you lived with. Dick had moved in with them two years ago when Bludhaven had been blown up and they now had much more time to themselves since, what with all the vigilantes living under the same roof, they didn't have to patrol as often.

"I'm fine," Cassandra murmured absently. She tilted her head to side as she looked tiredly out the open front door, her mouth opening slightly in a comfortable yawn. Her small hand covered her mouth and the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows illuminated her shoulder length ebony hair and streaked it with blue highlights.

She shifted slightly and asked, "So…how are your finals?"

"Hmmm?" Jason started abruptly. "Oh, they're fine. At least, I think they are."

She grinned at him and leaned forward, a mischievous glint that Jason recognized all too well from looking in the mirror dancing in her eyes. "At least once these are over with, we'll have the summer to look forward to."

"Oh, yeah. Patrol and training nonstop from sunup till sundown," he responded. He winced, just thinking about how sore he was going to be until fall, when he would start his new year.

"Training with Bruce can be rather…"

Cassandra trailed off delicately and Dick, who had just returned from the kitchen with a muffin in his hand, finished the sentence for her. "Nightmarish."

Cassandra smiled wryly and Jason let out a laugh. "Rather a strong euphuism there," he replied, a smile curling the edge of his mouth as he thought of the training he would have to endure at Bruce's hands this summer. He might complain and whine but he loved training; pushing his body to the limit and often, past it, always learning, always getting stronger.

And then there was beating his brothers at sparring, which always made Jason's day.

Dick raised his eyebrows at him and Jason smirked back, always ready to spar with one of his brothers; verbally if not physically. "Back for another round, Dickie-bird?"

"No way, Jason," Dick cut him off, hastily swallowing the last mouthful of muffin and continuing, "I just ate. I'm not sparring with you right now."

"If you want to spar, Jason," Cassandra supplied. "I finished my breakfast a while ago. _ We_ could spar, if you want."

Jason considered it for, oh, about a half a second before complying. A chance to spar with Cassandra wasn't bad. Ordinarily, the thought of sparring against a twelve year old girl would have disgusted him but seeing as it was Cassandra Cain, daughter of Davis Cain and Lady Shiva, both world-class assassins, and trained from practically the moment she left her mother's uterus, it didn't give Jason a second of pause.

Especially since Cassandra didn't pull punches and she could kick Jason's ass on a good day.

Well, pretty much any one of their asses.

Dick followed them towards the grandfather clock and, swinging it open, followed them down the stairs of the Batcave, anticipating the fight about to begin.

"Get him, Cass," Dick hollered as Jason nimbly dodged a left hook that probably would have caused permanent brain damage if it had actually landed where it had been intended.

Cassandra, her hair pinned up into a twist on top of her head, flashed Dick a grin through her mouthpiece. They were dressed in most of the sparring gear and had even put on shoes, a rarity in the Wayne household, except for Alfred, of course.

Jason whipped out his leg and caught her in the shin. She winced but rather than falling down, caught him in the jaw with a jab.

Hissing in pain, Jason, wishing they hadn't forgone the headgear, rammed his elbow into her stomach and, while she was surprised, swept her feet from under her by knocking her knees out from behind.

"Damn," snarled Cassandra, spinning onto her side so fast it would have given a merry-go-round horse a bout of nausea and, almost before he had realized what happened, flipped herself into a crouching position and lunged at him, crashing onto the mat on top of him.

For the second time in two hours, Jason had been shoved down after being pounced upon. Also for the second time, Jason nudged his foot into the crook of his opponent's knee and flipped her over.

Carefully, he positioned his weight so that he wasn't crushing her and gently wrapped his hands around her throat.

Match over.

At least, he thought it was.

He was about to get off and help her to her feet when Cassandra wrenched her wrist from where he had her pinned and slapped him across the face.

Jason reeled backward, nearly losing his balance. A lifetime of acrobatics and gymnastics paid off in keeping his body balanced as he swayed slightly. His hands had come off her throat when she slapped him and he cursed his momentary distraction.

Cassandra slammed her foot into his stomach and he let out a lungful of air in a rush. In retaliation, he nailed her in the jaw with a mean right hook.

Cassandra went down but turned onto her side and brought him crashing down with a well placed snap kick.

They lay on the mat for a while, breathing heavily and eyeing each other warily. Finally, they heard Dick, whom they had both forgotten was even there, get to his feet and walk towards them.

"That was quite a match," Dick congratulated them although his expression was slightly bewildered at what he had just witnessed.

"Good match," Cassandra panted, holding out her palm and slapping Jason's hand lightly. He nodded, trying to regain control of his breathing.

Dick helped Cassandra to her feet and then Jason, grinning, "Losing your touch there, Jason?"

Jason told him something he never would have even considered saying in Alfred's presence.

Dick let out a delighted laugh at his brother's reaction. "You're so easy to mess with, Jason."

"I was about to say the same thing to you," Jason retorted. He swiped a hand over his forehead and patted the sweat off with a towel, massaging his jaw with his free hand.

"Oh? How so," Dick countered, scowling as Jason whipped his towel into the laundry basket and made the shot without even touching the rims. Jason smirked, raising his hands in the silent sign for victory.

"I'll tell you what," Jason offered. "If I can mess with your head in the next, say, twenty minutes, Dick, you owe me a drink every time we go to the Iceberg Lounge together from now till we're forty."

Dick wrinkled his nose. "Ew," he groaned. "I don't want to think about being forty. Besides, we're not supposed to go to the Iceberg Lounge, remember?"

"And you always do what you're told, don't you?"

They began heading towards the stairs, Cassandra shaking her head in amusement as she listened to them bicker.

Dick paused, a curiously blank expression on his face. "Not exactly always," he hedged.

Jason grinned at him. "Just did it."

"Just did what?"

"Just messed with your head. Just now when you said you don't always do what you're told." Jason shot him a triumphant grin as he followed Cassandra up the stairs.

"I-no, that doesn't count. I bet you can't do it again."

"Double or nothing?"

"Deal," Dick said, sealing his fate. Jason shook his head at him mockingly, already thinking about the free drinks he would be getting in the future.

"I remember when Babs and I used to spar down here," Dick recalled wistfully.

"Not that much has changed," Jason quipped. "You still tussle and wrestle and make grunting noises while you do it."

"Jason," scolded Dick, a slight flush staining his cheeks. "That's none of your business."

"When your room is next to mine and Bruce hasn't gotten around to soundproofing the walls, you bet it's my business," grumbled Jason. Then his eyes lit up with wicked glee. He spun on his heel, exclaiming, "Oh! Twice in _a row!_"

Dick made an expression that wouldn't have been out of place if he had just gone dumpster diving. Finally getting himself under control, he whispered, "You're just in a bad mood because you aren't getting any," and dashed out of the clock and away, leaving a snarling Jason to shut the clock with his heel.

"Please refrain from doing that, Master Jason," Alfred's calm, even voice reproached.

_Oops. _"Sorry, Alfred," Jason muttered, ducking his head.

"That's quite alright. Would you care for some breakfast? I recall that you didn't have any this morning before your sparring match."

"Oh, right, I didn't." It was only when he had mentioned it that Jason realized how famished he was. He nabbed a bagel from Alfred's tray and washed it down with a cup of tea. "Thanks, Alfred."

"No problem at all, Master Jason," the butler replied as he continued on his way back to the kitchen. "Please remember to wash your hands before handling the television remote."

"Will do," Jason called after him.

Tim Drake was not having a good day.

You would think that compared to fighting madmen in masks and doing one-handed aerial tricks, investigating sewers, and, _duh, _training with none other than the Batman, school would be easy. You would think that.

You would be wrong.

Tim, having patrol the night before, had not finished the assigned reading. He had no choice but to do it in the car ride to school and had then taken a pop quiz that he may have failed miserably or gotten a hundred on; there was really no way to tell when it came to English quizzes.

Then, he had finished a ridiculously easy science final that was worth twenty five percent of his semester grade and ran a mile and a half for his gym final. The day in itself wasn't too bad but he was exhausted and a school full of rich, snotty boys aged five to eighteen all crammed into a single humongous building called a private boys' school wasn't exactly improving his mood.

_Today_, Tim thought miserably as he trudged towards his locker_, school is nothing short of my very own personalized _hell_._

And the demon that ran the place was currently leaning against his locker, a big grin playing nastily around his mouth.

"Hey, Timmy," Joshua Stevens began, mocking friendliness with every syllable. "How's your day been?"

"It _was _fine," Tim lied, clenching his fists beneath his books. He glanced around the hallway. Students were milling all around them, the smarter ones mindfully avoiding what was quite obviously about to become a fighting ring and the not so clever ones crowding the area.

All those kids and not a single teacher, teacher's aide, office worker, counselor, or vice principal in sight.

Tim sighed to himself. It was becoming clearer and clearer that unless he ran, this was about to get ugly.

He gave Stevens a calculating look. _Well_, Tim thought, _Stevens can't get much uglier than he already is. Why not?_

Carefully setting his things into his locker and closing the combination lock so his things wouldn't be ruined, Tim pushed up his sleeves and prepared to kick this bully's ass.

"I swear he was asking for it, Bruce," Tim protested into the crushing silence of the car. Alfred and Bruce had come to the school to pick him up after the principal had stumbled upon the scene. Very luckily for Stevens, too; at that point, he had already sprained an ankle, broken a rib and fractured his wrist.

"Timothy Drake," Bruce growled and Tim clamped down on his cringe. He _hated _when Bruce used that tone on him. It scared the hell out of him for one thing despite the fact that he was a perfectly capable and perfectly bold fifteen year old boy, but for another, it made him feel as though he'd let Bruce down. It was a feeling he detested.

"We do not use violence against the bullies in schools," Bruce continued, still employing the same horrible voice. "What you know is not to be abused. You cannot use it against unarmed individuals. You could have done that boy serious damage. You're lucky you only got suspended until the end of the school year. And you're even luckier that you already finished all your finals."

Tim held his tongue throughout the car ride home, wishing that he hadn't just fractured the boy's wrist but snapped it clean off. Hey, he figured, if he was going to get into trouble with Bruce, it might as well be worth it.

Finally, they arrived home, Dick opening the front door, surprise etched into his handsome features.

"Bruce? You're home? With- ah…" understanding dawned across his face as Dick realized what must have happened.

He held the door open for them and steered Tim towards the video center, Bruce glaring after them both.

"Why are we going in here?"

"Because Jason is in here and Bruce never comes in this place," Dick explained.

"Why can't we just go into one of your bedrooms?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Jason's voice came from the sofa as he grinned wickedly at Tim. He was fiddling with the remote but nothing was actually on. After a few seconds, Jason tossed the remote onto the coffee table and flashed Tim another smirk.

"You wouldn't want to see what I've got in my room," he assured Tim.

"Probably wallpapered the entire place with centerfolds from Playboy," Dick muttered under his breath and he shunted Tim along to his other brother.

"I beg your pardon," Jason asked, arching a brow at Dick. "Are we talking about this oh-so-sensitive topic in front of the baby bird?"

He was referring, of course, to Dick's habit of being overprotective nature when it came to Tim. Dick glared halfheartedly at Jason before flopping down in an adjacent couch.

Tim suddenly crashed onto the same couch as Jason, launching himself next to his brother, who yelped and quickly moved out of the way.

"I swear all of you people are trying to kill me," Jason muttered darkly.

"What do you mean," Tim asked, frowning.

"Both Dick and Cassandra attacked me this morning. Dick was arguing with me about his pathetic little Eskimo sticks-"s

"Eskrima sticks, thank you very-"

"And then he attacked me," Jason continued as though he hadn't heard Dick's indignant retort.

"And Cassandra," Tim questioned further.

"We were sparring," Jason explained.

"Who won?"

Jason paused for a second before answering, "It was a tie, of sorts."

"She whipped you, didn't she?" Tim asked, grinning.

"No," Jason rebutted, "I won and then she kind of cheated-"

"It doesn't count as cheating if your too celebrating your not yet victory to see that she's about to slap you and knock you off-" Dick began before Tim cut him off.

"She _slapped _you?"

"Dick, I would appreciate it if you didn't spread such outrageous rumors about me," Jason glanced at Dick before continuing. "You might accidentally give little ol' Tim here the wrong idea. For one thing, I did not wallpaper my bedroom with Playboy. Besides, Tim, do you even know what Playboy is?"

Tim slanted a sarcastic look at his older brother. "Yes, Jason, I know what Playboy is."

"Just making sure," Jason shrugged. "What are you doing home so early?"

Tim shrugged, imitating his brother's pervious motion. Dick filled Jason in on the situation. "He beat up a kid and got suspended. Am I right?"

Tim looked up, slightly surprised. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Dick grinned, shaking his head. "Been there, done that, Tim. Got the lecture, got the punishment. Did it all."

"What _is _the punishment?"

Jason snorted in amusement. "No patrol and no cases until further notice."

"You would know," Dick smirked.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo," Tim wailed. "No patrol! My life is gone!"

"Calm yourself, Tim," Dick shushed him. "Think of it as a lot more time for naps and studying."

As Jason made a face at Dick's supposed comforting and Dick scowled back, Tim wailed louder. "I'm done with exams, though! And what am I going to do this summer if I can't go on patrol with you guys?"

"You should have thought of that before you beat that kid up," Cassandra's cool voice floated in from the doorway.

"Cassandra," Tim exclaimed awkwardly, flushing a deep red. "I didn't see you."

"I gathered that," she smiled warmly, thoroughly enjoying her brother's embarrassment. It happened so rarely that it was impossible not to appreciate it when Tim blushed a good, deep red. "I was on my way when I heard you all talking about Playboy and suspension. Sounded pretty interesting so I thought I'd pop in."

Dick's cheeks tinged a pale pink at what the situation looked like. "We were talking about Jason's bedroom," he blurted out, trying to explain.

Jason briefly closed his eyes as though praying for patience. "Dick, I swear to God, if you say I wallpapered my bedroom with Playboy one more time-"

"That's not what I said!"

"Then why would you bring up Jason's bedroom while explaining about Playboy?"

"Tim, shut up," both Jason and Dick snarled in unison.

"Okay, okay," Tim put up his hands in surrender and walked over to Cassandra. "Let's go, Cass. Best to leave them to it."

"You're right," she agreed, closing the door behind the two of them but not quite managing to shut out the sound of the two boys arguing.

"I don't even read Playboy, for God's sake!"

"I never said you did!"

"Then where in hell would I get the magazines to wallpaper my room?"

"You tell me!"

An echoing roar was the last thing Cassandra and Tim could hear before turning the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey, Steph!"

"Yes?"

Stephanie's friend Melanie raced up to meet her at the doorway to the science laboratory. In the vicious jungle called private girls' school, which was to say, Stephanie's current hell, ahem, school, it was damn near impossible to find anyone you could trust, let alone be friends with.

Melanie, however, had been friends with Stephanie for a few years now. "Steph, did you hear about Robin?"

"What about him?" Stephanie was careful to keep her tone light and blasé; after all, she lived the boy. If anything bad had happened, she would know before the newspapers and certainly before her school friends.

Giggling, Melanie pressed a newspaper into Stephanie's hands. They set their books down by the designated bench and took their seats next to each other, Stephanie shaking open the paper as she did so.

She had to stifle a smile. Tim, dressed in his Robin suit, was displayed grinning at her, clad in her Spoiler suit, and about to rappel onto the next building. How the paper had gotten that shot, Stephanie had no idea, but she couldn't believe that it had made the front page of the local newspaper.

It had been taken while they were on patrol just that morning, around two, she'd guess. They had partnered up to take the East side district and come across a mugging which Tim had pounced upon with gusto.

"Well," Melanie squealed eagerly, "Steph, what do you think?"

Stephanie blinked in surprise. What was she _supposed _to think? "They're very good at what they do," she tried lamely.

Melanie rolled her eyes. "I meant, what do you think of _him,_" Melanie pointed at the photo of Tim. Her fingertip traced over his photographed cheek before she continued. "He's so _cute_!"

Stephanie felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks. She hoped desperately that Melanie wouldn't notice. The truth was, Stephanie had developed a terrible crush on Tim in the last two years that they had been living in Wayne manor. It was one thing to have a harmless crush, a daydream, about Robin, the Boy Wonder. It was another to know his name, live in the same mansion, and fight crime side by side. It was even worse to have to see Tim with his tongue hanging out after Cassandra whenever she was around. Stephanie thought of Cassandra like her older sister, similarly to the way she felt towards Babs. They were her sisters. She just wished that Tim would wake up already and realize that he belonged with her, Stephanie, not Cass.

"How can you tell he's cute," Stephanie asked. "He's wearing a mask, for one thing."

"I can tell," Melanie shook her head stubbornly. "He's just got this cute air about him."

"Well, he _is_ cute," Stephanie murmured. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. _Oh, well_, she thought. _Every other girl at school is obsessed with Robin. What does it matter if they think I am too?_ They had pictures of him taped into their notebooks and giggled about him in the hallways. Stephanie had even overheard once, in locker room, a girl tell her friend about a simply _obscene _dream she had had the night before about him. Stephanie hadn't been able to look at Tim in the eye for weeks.

She never told him about his groupies. She figured it would either blow his ego up to the size of Jason's, which was saying something, or scare the hell out him, which would be funny but cruel.

"Yeah, he's cute, alright." Stephanie took out her books and set aside the newspaper, trying to free her mind of Tim.

Yeah, right. Like it was so easy to get him out of her head. God knew she had tried.

"How do _you _know," Melanie retaliated, playing devil's advocate. "Didn't you just say that his mask obscures his face?"

"I know," Stephanie repeated. _Believe me, I know._

The bell rang, signifying the end of the discussion and the beginning of another dissection.

Dinner at Wayne manor was always a loud affair. When Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, and Tim Drake sat down for dinner, things were guaranteed to be interesting.

Hell, Jason and Dick alone would be a show worth paying for.

And not because they were acrobats.

"Look, you two," Bruce began, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. Jason and Dick looked up from the last piece of Black Forrest cake that they were quarreling over and froze. "You're getting out of hand. You argue all day and all night and then when we go out on patrol, you fight some more. It's driving me insane. Sometimes you spar and wrestle. Alfred has had to replace three pairs of busted sparring gloves in the last week. I don't know how you managed to break _three in a week_ but whatever you're doing, it has to stop."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

Jason and Dick resumed their battle for the cake and Bruce refocused his attention on Stephanie. "How's your ankle, Stephanie?"

Stephanie grimaced. Her leg was propped up on a stack of fluffy white bath towels and a brace encircled her slender ankle. On the way home, Stephanie had tripped over a random rock and been sent tumbling into the ground, twisting her ankle, and, she learned later, fracturing it.

"It's gotten better," she replied. "The swelling has gone down for the most part."

Bruce nodded than continued, "I've come to a final decision on your punishment, Tim."

Tim looked up glumly. "What is it?"

"For as long as Stephanie is out of commission with her broken ankle, you will not be on any cases or patrol. If she heals fast, you're going to be back in your Robin suit again fast. If she doesn't, neither will you."

"That's not fair," Tim burst out. "It takes up to eight weeks to heal a broken ankle!"

"That's sounds about right," Bruce agreed, cutting up his pork chops while steadily looking his son in the eye.

"But summer vacation is only twelve weeks!" Tim's eyes had widened comically and he was making flapping gestures with his arms to animate his frustration and agitation. He looked somewhere between a hyperactive toddler imitating a plane and a deranged chicken on crack.

"Exactly."

"That's completely ludicrous," Tim insisted. Jason choked on a sip of water at his brother's choice of words and Dick, taking advantage of an excuse to smack him, pounded him on the back.

"That does seem extreme, Bruce," Dick pointed out. "I don't think you've ever done that with me or even Jason."

"That's because you two are his favorites," Tim pouted, knowing it was a low blow and that moreover, was completely untrue. He stabbed bad-temperedly at a piece of meatloaf before chewing on it.

From across the table, Jason snorted in disbelief. "I'm his favorite? _I'm _his favorite?"

"Well, maybe not you," Tim conceded. "But Dick, for sure."

"This is absurd," Bruce cut across them. He glared at Tim then Jason. "You all know I don't have favorites."

There was a silence where Tim picked at his food and Jason glared at Dick, who glared back.

Cassandra broke the silence. "So I take it none of us have any exams left?"

They all shook their heads. "Who's going out on patrol tonight?" Jason asked, savoring the taste of the cake he had managed to snatch from Dick.

"Well, I already headed out about a half hour ago," Bruce informed them. Then, seeing the looks on their faces, he quickly added, "It was just reconnaissance; nothing too important. Now, Stephanie and Tim obviously can't come. Barbara is at home; she's not going to be here tonight. Jason and Dick pairing up together would be a disaster. Cassandra, would you go with them to keep them in line?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Alright then," Bruce decided. "Cassandra, Jason, and Dick will team up to take the Lower East District and I'll take the Upper East. Tim and Stephanie; stay here and don't get into any trouble. Understand?"

They all nodded.

"Great. I want everyone down in the Batcave in half an hour."


	2. It's Ridiculous

"I can't believe Babs isn't coming," Dick sighed dejectedly.

"She has a life, too, you know," Jason reminded him as he changed into his Red Hood suit.

Dick didn't reply but instead slipped on his eye mask.

"Time to go," Jason called to him over his shoulder. He led the way out of the room and into the general Batcave.

_One hour ago…_

Selina Kyle let out a cry of surprise as her favorite cat, Isis, leapt from the car where she had been riding shotgun and out the open window.

Within seconds, the cat had slinked off into the darkness, melting into the shadows.

Selina debated briefly between calling after the cat, seeing as they were about five miles from her apartment, but decided against it. After all, Isis had a keen memory and had been left from her home much farther than this.

Selina rolled up the window and kept on going.

_Still one hour ago…_

Isis tread carefully along the all y, padding silently, her tail kept meticulously curled above the filthy ground. She sniffed disgustedly at the eye-watering odor emanating from the garbage cans overflowing onto the street.

She was following a scent she had picked up on her mistress' suit. It was odd and yet very distinct. Narrowing her cerulean eyes, Isis continued her journey towards what she was sure was the source of the scent.

At the end of the ally, Isis discovered the source of the scent; a large, sleek black car parked along the street.

Isis crept closer, wary of the gleaming vehicle. Sniffing to be sure, she drew closer still to the car and ran a claw along the base, leaving a barely there rivet, so small it could hardly be noticed.

Nothing happened. Isis wedged a claw beneath a rivet on the underside of the car and, propping herself up for more leverage, popped open the hatch.

A cloud of black dust flew out and Isis sneezed twice, her small body seizing up as she did so. Afterwards, she shook her head and continued with her investigation.

Picking at the tools she found inside, they clattered out, the echo of the metal hooks clanging onto the cold ground making her flinch.

Suddenly there came the sound of boots hitting the ground very close by. Moving quickly, Isis silently set the rest of the tools out of the way and heaved herself into the small space under the car.

As she heard the car door open and close, Isis hooked a sharp claw around the handle of the opening and brought it towards herself, closing it just as the car rumbled to life.

_Back to the present…_

"I think we all have to admit that was all me," Jason insisted.

"It wasn't," Dick rebutted. "In fact, it was all _me_."

"You wish, Dickie-bird," Jason mocked.

"If that was anyone in particular, it was me," Cassandra interrupted.

Dick and Jason turned to look at her. If she weren't there, they would have gone into a four hour long argument over which of them had been the most valuable in a skirmish with a street gang. But since she was, at Bruce's insistence no less, they had settled for a small scale argument and a three second long shoving match.

They knew that Cassandra didn't actually believe that any one of them was the most valuable and that she had only said that to make them shut up. But they also knew that arguing with her would be a very, very stupid thing to do.

The trio patrolled on.

Tim swiveled around and around in Bruce's office chair, miserably staring up at the ceiling. Stephanie stifled a sigh. She had been down here for the last hour and it was quickly becoming mind numbingly boring.

"I should be out there with Cassandra and Bruce, not in here," Tim moped. "Stephanie, how long do you think you'll be missing out on patrol?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes at him. "Tim, I don't know. Most of the time it's around six to eight weeks. Okay?"

"Not okay," Tim grumbled. "I can't believe Bruce is being so mean."

"I'll believe it," Stephanie countered. "He got mad at me when I hit a girl at my school once."

This got Tim's attention. Perking up immediately, he spun his chair to face her. "When did _that _happen?"

A flush appeared mysteriously on Stephanie's high cheekbones at Tim's full attention on her. "There was this really nasty girl at my school. She was always elbowing me and pulling my hair and all kinds of stupid stuff. I guess she just wanted attention."

A slow smile spread across Stephanie's face, twin dimples indenting her cheeks. Tim cocked his head to the side, his brilliant scientific brain trying furiously to work out why he couldn't seem to stop looking at her all of a sudden. He almost jumped when she spoke again, so focused he had been on analyzing her beautiful smile. "She definitely got my attention, that's for one thing. I got sick of it one day and I dislocated her knee. I swear, I didn't even try, she was just annoying me and she _wanted _a fight, honest to God, and I just-"

"Snapped," Tim finished her sentence with her. He knew how she felt. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

She smiled wider and Tim's heart skipped a beat. He realized that the only reason that he was just finding out that Stephanie was actually a _girl _was because he had never really looked at her before. But this story had got his attention and shown her a different light. A very appealing light, he might add.

Stephanie shifted slightly and Tim realized that he had been caught staring. _Oops._

"So," they both began, eager to break the silence and both stopping immediately.

"No, you go," they tried again, with the same result.

They lapsed into another silence, one that should have been awkward but was just comfortable and, if possible, comforting. They were both stuck in the Batcave for the next month and a half's patrol, it was true, and they were both tied together when it came to how they were going to go back to the streets as their alter egos, it was also true, but they had gained a considerable amount of comfort from the connection they shared over the bratty children at their respective schools.

"What was the girl's name," Tim asked finally.

"What?" Stephanie smiled apologetically at Tim, her heart tapping faster. "Sorry, I was distracted."

"By what," he inquired curiously.

_By your perfect face. By your perfect mannerisms. By your perfect way of saying the perfect thing _perfectly. "Nothing, just…thinking."

He nodded absently. "What was it that you said to me," Stephanie asked.

"Oh, I was just wondering what that girl's name was."

"Nicole. Nicole Bowers."

"I think I know her brother," Tim frowned, trying to remember. "Blonde and chubby, right?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Stephanie replied, half her mind on the conversation and half trying to calm her erratic pulse which was pounding like it was thinking about putting her into cardiac arrest. She knew full well that it was at the length of the conversation she was having with Tim. She tried to pretend it was the coffee ice cream she had had for dessert that was making her pulse beat so insanely because it was just too big of a blow to her ego to admit otherwise.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Tim shrugged. He leaned forward suddenly, his blue eyes glittering. It took every ounce of Stephanie's self control to not lean forward as well but he was so _close, _and she didn't know if she could keep a hold of herself for much longer. He continued speaking and she clamped down on her rebellious thoughts. "Hey, I was thinking-"

"Intruder," the screen bellowed.

Stephanie and Tim nearly passed out from shock. Then, as the cool mechanical voice continued it's screaming, their faces drained of all color. Tim let out an expletive as he spun around, trying to locate said intruder.

"Intruder, intruder," the screen continued.

Stephanie and Tim ducked into a small area hidden away from the main Batcave. If Stephanie's heart beat was wild before, it was nothing to what it was now.

"Okay, this is what we're going to have to do," Stephanie whispered quickly. Tim listened carefully. Despite the thoughts they were having before, the two of them crammed into the tiny area wasn't even registering in their minds. All they needed right now was Bruce and fast. "We need to call Bruce and wait until he gets here. Tell him where we are."

Tim nodded and snapped out his emergency phone that he kept tucked into the secret pocket in the tongue of his sneaker. He called Bruce and praying to whatever gods were listening, relayed the message in a hushed whisper.

"You two listen carefully," Bruce's voice was tense and they could hear him sprinting, presumably towards the Batmobile. Or so they hoped. God knew it wasn't towards the nearest Starbucks; that was for damned sure. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm alerting Cass, Jason, and Dick. Hang on tight and I'll be there in less than ten minutes. Do _not _go out there."

"Okay, Bruce," Tim breathed into the phone. His hands were clenched tightly around the phone and his eyes were impossibly wide. Despite the fear, though, there was also courage and determination.

"Wait," Stephanie pulled the phone towards her and spoke fast. "Bruce, what about Alfred?"

There was a beat of silence and then a growl. "Don't leave where you are," Bruce repeated. "I'll be there soon. Don't get Alfred. He'll be fine. He is upstairs, isn't he?"

"Yeah," they both whispered.

"He's dusting or something," Stephanie informed him. "I saw him when I went up for a glass of water. I don't think he's coming down here."

"Good. I'll call him once I'm in the car just to warn him. Remember; don't do a thing until I get there. I'll call again once I'm in the car."

There was a click as he disconnected the call and then they were just two scared kids stuck in a small cranny of the Batcave, trying desperately not to die.

_From Bruce's perspective…_

Bruce sprinted along the street, hoping that he would get there before the intruder, whoever it was, could find them.

Once he was in the car, he slammed the accelerator. Using the car's built-in phone, Bruce called Alfred first and informed him of the situation at hand. Once he had gotten Alfred to swear on Britain's national security that he would not go downstairs and attempt something heroic, he called the rest of his team.

"Not really a good time," Nightwing's voice sounded in the car's phone system. Thankfully, the team had gotten earpieces built into their suits and they didn't have to juggle a phone while on patrol.

"Nightwing, there is an intruder at the Batcave."

"_What?"_

"An intruder in the Batcave," Bruce snarled. "I'm on my way; you three head back immediately. Drop everything and go."

He hung up before Dick could say a word.

_From Isis' perspective (one hour ago)…_

Isis hopped out of the car's box and inched her way slowly across the tiles of the Batcave. Her already large eyes opened even bigger in the near total darkness of the section of the cave where Bruce had parked the Batmobile.

Sniffing suspiciously, Isis followed her nose and burrowed deeper into the Batcave, investigating the mysterious atmosphere she had found herself in.

_Catwoman's perspective (present)…_

Catwoman found the Batmobile easily enough. It was hidden in shadows and was painted black but still, it wasn't too hard to distinguish in the dark. She wandered closer and sank to her knees by the side of it.

Securing her bullwhip around her waist, she slid underneath it. Flexing her fingers, she dug her claws into the metal workings of the car, careful not to pierce any vital piece of the car.

She swung her booted feet up onto two wire hangings, which she supposed could have been part of the car when it transformed into a submarine or whatever, and adjusted herself.

Basically, she was supporting her entire body onto the bottom of the Batmobile and her only means of support were her feet and claws and she was too worried about them falling off while the car was in motion to put too much force on them.

Most of her body weight was just being held in check by her muscle and determination.

Just as she was shifting to get more comfortable, Catwoman heard the thud of heavy boots hitting the ground fast. _Okay, _she thought, _take me for a ride right into the Batcave._

_From Isis' perspective (present)…_

Isis slinked around a twist in the Batcave, her curiosity intensifying when she couldn't reach her target. Rising up onto her hind legs, she launched herself onto the tall shelf she had been investigating and set off a screeching alarm.

"Intruder, intruder," it screamed over and over again.

Isis yelped and shot off towards the gigantic computer in the main area of the cave where it was more brightly lit. Running around frantically, Isis tried to find a place to escape the loud echoing voice.

_From Red Hood, Black Bat, and Nightwing's perspectives…_

"It was Batman," Nightwing informed them while simultaneously ducking a blow and twisting the man's arm behind his back. The man cried out in pain and Nightwing dropped him in disgust before continuing. "He says he needs us back at headquarters immediately."

"How come?" Both Black Bat and Red Hood asked at the same time.

Nightwing paused then replied, "I'll explain later."

They understood it to mean, _I can't talk about it right now._

"Do we have time to finish up," Red Hood asked, slamming a left hook into the gut of the closest criminal, who collapsed like a bridge on fire.

"No," Nightwing answered shortly. He turned and began walking towards his motorcycle, the Nightbird.

"But we can't leave them here," Black Bat insisted.

Nightwing hesitated. "Red Hood, you finish up. I'll head back with-"

"I'll stay," Black Bat interrupted, neatly jabbing her index finger into her assailant's neck and watching him slide onto her feet with more than a little satisfaction. "You go back. Tell him we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Nightwing would have argued but there just wasn't enough time for that. "Fine, I'll go," he agreed reluctantly. "Good luck."

"You too," Red Hood called to him, dodging a wild punch and knocking the man out with a jab-hook combination.

"Thanks," Nightwing acknowledged. _I hope I won't need it._

_Altogether, in the Batcave (except for Black Bat and Red Hood)…_

They were grouped together, squashed into a closet that was never meant to hold two adult males and a teenage boy and girl.

"Okay, now would be a good time to explain what in hell is going on," hissed Nightwing.

"Where are the others," Batman countered instead.

"They stayed behind to finish up. They'll be here in about five minutes."

"They'd better be," Tim grumbled quietly.

"Is Alfred okay," Nightwing pressed.

"He's fine. He's upstairs. I made him swear not to come down," Batman assured him. Looking at his assembled team, he relayed to them the plan.

"Stephanie, listen closely; you're injured and you're in no condition to fight. First chance you get, go up the stairs and find Alfred. Stay there. Understand?"

Stephanie nodded quickly, knowing better than to argue. Satisfied, Batman turned towards Tim. "Tim, if you see Stephanie trying to make it up the stairs, you help her. Until then, you've got the right side of the Batcave."

"The right side of the Batcave?"

"Yes. You cover the right side. Nightwing and I will take the left. When Red Hood and Black Bat get here, they can take the exit area. That leaves the main area but I doubt anyone is there. I would have seen them when I got here. Once we're done, though, we'll examine that more thoroughly, too."

His team nodded and quickly got to their assigned positions, each determined to find the intruder.

_From Black Bat and Red Hood's perspectives…_

Black Bat flipped her leg over her motorcycle, adjusting her grip on the handles. She saw Red Hood do the same on her right side. Just as she was about to start it, she heard a voice in her earpiece.

"Black Bat and Red Hood. Do you copy?"

"Yeah, I do. What do you want, Nightwing?"

"The situation I was talking about earlier? Someone broke into the Batcave."

Black Bat felt her jaw go slack at the news and somewhere in the corner of her mind a little voice told her to close her mouth. Numbly, she obeyed.

Red Hood inhaled sharply then blew out. "Did you find them?"

"Not yet," Nightwing answered, sounding disgruntled. "I just got the plan. Tim has the right side of the cave, you and Black Bat have the exit area and Batman and I have the left side. Got it?"

"Yes." They answered in unison without thinking about it.

"Alright. See you in five."

_Altogether in the Batcave…_

They had been searching for at least two hours. It was nearing one in the morning. The adrenaline rush was starting to fade.

Stephanie had managed to bolt upstairs with Tim's help an hour and a half ago. _Now, _Nightwing thought miserably, _she was probably eating some of Alfred's cookies._

He quickly stopped that kind of unproductive thinking but it was difficult. They had switched positions at least three times each, which meant that they had each searched each area of the Batcave themselves and found nothing.

No one would ever say it, of course, except maybe Jason, but they all were having serious suspicions that maybe the alarm system in the Batcave was dysfunctional.

God forbid.

"Alright," Batman finally spoke into his earpiece, startling him. "All meet back in the center."

Once they were all huddled there, Batman sighed. "I'm not sure what happened here," Batman admitted. "But we have to decide. Do we keep looking or just lock down the area until morning?"

"I want to say keep looking," Black Bat sighed. "But at this point, I don't know how much good it will do."

"Same," Nightwing agreed. "Maybe they already left the way they came."

"I think we should lock down the area for one thing," Red Hood opined. "And after that…" he shrugged. "We shower and go to bed. If they left, nothing we can do about it now. And if they didn't, well, we'll find them in the morning."

"That does make sense," Black Bat concurred. "Batman?"

He looked conflicted. "Fine. We're done tonight."

Just as they reached up to peel off their masks, a mewling sound caught their attention.

"Do you hear that," Black Bat asked, her fingers frozen around the base of her mask.

"Sounds like a cat," Red Hood answered. "What the hell-?"

A perfectly composed cat was coming towards them in the dark, her deep blue eyes glittering at them. Her tail swished back and forth and she walked as though she was royalty.

Suddenly, Nightwing bent down and tried to scoop her up. She let out a howl and slashed at his chest with her claws.

"Damn," Nightwing hissed. He tossed the cat towards Red Hood, who grabbed the cat around its front legs and held it up, far away from himself.

"Are you telling me," he began slowly. "That we've been searching this entire time for a _cat_?"

"This is absurd," Black Bat burst out. "How did she get in?"

"It isn't absurd," Nightwing broke in, glaring at the cat. He ran a finger over the long bloody gash across his chest. "It's ridiculous."

There was a short silence before Red Hood snarled, "Are we going to do something with this cat or am I going to have to hold her for the next few hours?"

_From Catwoman's perspective…_

Catwoman's fragile grip on the Batmobile was quickly deteriorating. Her arms, shoulders, abs, and all of her legs ached with the effort of holding herself up the way she was doing for the four hours she had been under the car.

She hissed inaudibly as a claw slid out of the underside of the car a fraction of a centimeter. Ignoring the burning in her back and arms, she shoved the claw back up.

The only thing that was keeping her there was the fact that she could still hear her cat screeching at somebody named Red Hood. Whoever the hell he was, he had better put her cat _down. Now._

As she heard Batman tell them all that the night was over, Catwoman nearly sighed in relief. Thank goodness.

She couldn't hear any steps on the stairs but they were trained to point where she supposed they simply didn't make any noise. At all.

The only light left was the light in the main Batcave. With a groan of relief, Catwoman allowed herself to collapse onto the floor of the Batcave, every muscle screaming exhaustion and abuse.

_Okay, _she thought after about thirty seconds. _That's enough. Back to work._

Heaving herself to her feet, a task that involved much swearing and throbs of pain shooting throughout her body, Catwoman glanced around the Batcave. Where to begin…

_Half an hour later in the Batcave…_

Catwoman froze as she heard the unmistakable sound of an exhausted pair of feet making their way down a flight of stairs. Her fingers clenched around the stack of spare eye masks she had been examining and without thinking about it, she tossed them into her bag, tightening the drawstrings around the top.

She sank down onto the ground behind a statue of Batman and a Robin, her chest constricted. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be upstairs with the others, for chrissake!

Catwoman cursed herself for not collecting her cat from the beginning. She had thought she had enough time to get Isis at the end, not wanting to get her from the pen that Batman had placed her in and have her follow her around the entire time.

_What now?_

Catwoman peered around and saw that Batman had sat down at the massive computer, his long fingers tapping away at speed. A slight frown creased his forehead as he typed.

A second later, Catwoman sucked in a breath of shock. He wasn't wearing a mask. His suit was on but his cowl was off. Her gloved fingers splayed across her mouth as she tried to mask the sharp gasp but she knew it was a lost cause the second her fingers made contact with her lips.

_Damn, _she thought wildly, trying to gather her scattered wits. _What was she going to do _now?

She watched as he turned around, swiveling in his chair and examining the room with narrowed blue eyes. For all of her years of practice, skill and considerable intelligence, she was completely frozen, helpless to do anything but watch as his gaze landed on her.

Something sparked. As their eyes met, sparks flew.

Then, so fast that she could barely connect the movements, he had her pinned against the wall, her arms held fast around the wrist above her head, his gorgeous blue eyes gone cold and hard as blue ice.

"Catwoman," he breathed, never taking his eyes off her face.

Before he could gas her, or knock her out, or inject her with some memory modifying drug, Catwoman did what she always did when she wanted to distract a man in a very dangerous situation.

She leaned in as much as she could pressed to the wall, inhaled sharply, sent out a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and slanted her mouth over his.


	3. It's Terrifying

_Still in the Batcave…_

There was a shocked silence in the cave, as though the walls themselves had been scandalized by what they had just witnessed. Then, almost when Catwoman had begun to doubt that he had any feeling whatsoever in his lips, his mouth opened.

What happened next was over so fast it was a blur. First they were kissing like teenagers on a first date. Then they were kissing like they were about to die in the next thirty seconds.

Before she had realized what was happening, he had slipped a pair of ice cold handcuffs over her wrists, still above her head. The sickening sound of a pair of handcuffs clicking into place shocked her system like a bucket of cold water.

She gave a start, her head jerking back. Before she could register what he was doing, he had palmed a syringe out of his belt and with the expertise of one used to such things, pushed the plunger into the inside of her elbow, without once breaking eye contact.

Catwoman shuddered once then slumped over, effectively knocked out.

Batman paused for a second, unsure of what exactly to do now. _Well, _he mused, _I suppose I could put her on the bed near the stairs, tie her down, and lock her in. _

Just as he had the thought, he heard a voice say, "Hey, Bruce, could you-"

He whipped around, forgetting about the unconscious leather-clad woman draped across his arms, and heard Jason's shocked exhalation followed shortly by a hoot of laughter.

_All of them (except for Catwoman) in the kitchen…_

"Master Richard, your cereal," Alfred intoned, setting down a bowl of cereal in front Dick, who leapt on it like a man dying of hunger.

They were sitting around the circular breakfast table; they had had the same seats for as long as they had lived there. Dick then Bruce then Tim then Stephanie then Cassandra then Jason then back to Dick. If Barbara visited, she would pull up an extra chair between Dick and Bruce.

"Master Bruce, your toast," he added, placing a plate of toast in front of his oldest charge.

"Master Timothy, your omelets. Miss Stephanie, your blueberry pancakes. Miss Cassandra, your biscuits. Master Jason, your bacon and eggs."

"Thank you, Alfred," they chorused in unison.

"So what exactly happened last night," Stephanie asked as they dug in. "Tim and I were already asleep by the time you all got back up."

Jason leaned towards her, a wicked glint in his eye. "We searched for hours for this cat. And guess whose cat it is?"

"Catwoman's?" Stephanie gasped.

"Exactly. Bruce stayed down there for a while longer and I went down after a half hour to check what he was doing and guess who I found passed out in his arms?"

"Jesus," Dick breathed.

"Master Richard, I will ask you to refrain from using such vulgar language at the table," Alfred admonished sternly as he poured them milk.

"Sorry, Alfred," Dick apologized hastily. "But seriously, Bruce, what happened?"

"Well," Bruce began, looking uncomfortable. "I found her. She saw me with my mask down."

A shocked silence ensued these words. Even Alfred seemed to be stunned.

"_What?" _Tim exploded suddenly. "Is she down there? What are we going to do? Is she asleep? Where is she?"

"Relax, Tim," Stephanie reassured him, placing a hand on his elbow and tugging him back into his seat. "I'm sure Bruce has a plan."

Tim suddenly went very pink and sat down without saying another word, picking at his omelets.

Dick held in a sigh as he watched Tim's cheeks glow a bright fuchsia. _I have to talk to him about that._ "Well, Bruce, continue," he prompted.

"I managed to detain her and she is currently tied to the cot in the cave," Bruce informed them, avoiding eye contact.

"That's it," Stephanie asked, surprised. "You just 'detained' her? That easy?"

Bruce chewed a little too hard on his toast as he considered her question. "Well, I had to…distract her."

"How," Dick pressed further, becoming more and more curious by the shifty expression on Bruce's face.

"None of your business," he snapped.

Jason let out a peal of delighted laughter. "Dick, I'll tell you later."

"I want to know," Tim immediately burst out.

Jason paused for a second, considering. "I don't know," he mused slowly. "You're fifteen, right? You should be old enough."

"Is this restricted material," Cassandra questioned, thoroughly amused by Bruce's forceful ignoring of the conversation taking place just down the table.

"It's not too bad," Jason admitted. "But seeing as its Bruce…"

"If you all insist on talking about me as though I'm not here, I might as well head to work," Bruce announced with what little dignity he had left. He stood up, swallowed the last bites of toast then went back upstairs to get changed into his usual suit.

Alfred hurried to wash his plate as the rest threw their heads back and roared with laughter.

_In the Batcave, all except Alfred and Bruce…_

"Tuck tighter," Dick instructed Tim.

"I _am _tucking tighter," Tim immediately exclaimed. His loud response garnered both Cassandra and Jason's attention and they wandered over.

"I don't think you are," Jason rebutted. "I was watching your landings. You have about a quarter inch gap between your calves and your thighs when you land from your summersaults."

"A quarter _inch_," Tim asked despairingly. "But I've been practicing so much lately."

"I know," Cassandra soothed him, patting his arm gently. "You'll just have to-"

"Practice more," Jason and Dick finished in unison.

Cassandra glared at them halfheartedly. "That's not very supportive," she told them caustically. "But they are right. The only thing that will help is more practice."

"Yeah. I know," Tim replied. He ran off to the far side of the cave to practice his landings while Stephanie looked on, pointing out corrections from her position on his left.

Cassandra knew that Stephanie was miserable these days; no doubt to her injury. At this moment she was seated and had her ankle propped up and bandaged and had been ordered by Alfred to keep her ice pack on it. Stephanie, who considered Cassandra as something of a sister, similarly to the way she thought of Barbara, had informed the former the night before that she was sick of feeling useless.

Cassandra could have picked up on as much from her skills as a body reader alone but reading those that Bruce had trained was much, much harder. Not hard but hard_er_. Still, it was nice that Stephanie had chosen to confide in her.

"Cassandra, have you heard a word of what I just said?"

She gave a small start of surprise, whipping around to face the very person she was just thinking about. "Sorry," Cassandra apologized, a slightly guilty smile curling her lips. "What was that you said?"

"I was just saying that the ways Bruce and Dick teach are so different," Jason repeated, nodding in the general direction of the uneven bars a hundred feet away where Dick was modeling something for Tim.

"Bruce always taught us things once. He modeled it once then he made you drill for hours to create muscle memory. Once you got a couple of moves down, he would combine them. Dick models a bunch of stuff and then has Tim put them into combinations right away to work on the fluency when he fights. Then if Tim can't pull something off, he works on that specifically. Interesting combination, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Cassandra murmured. "Their styles are so different, too. Bruce is more about blunt force. He can be agile, that's for sure, and he is certainly flexible but he's got nothing on Dick when it comes to those acrobatics. The same goes for Dick; he hits hard but he's more liquid and flowing then raw power like Bruce."

"You spend a lot of time analyzing peoples' fighting like that," Jason asked, a single black brow arching over a bright green eye.

"No," Cassandra laughed. "It just…comes naturally to absorb their style so that I can fight back if I ever need to. Not that I would," she added hastily. "But it's such an ingrained part of my training, it can't choose who to analyze and who not to. It just does."

"Tim, if you land like that on a rafter, you might break your ankle," Dick corrected. "Here, try this…"

"Whenever Dick was around while I was training, I would do _anything _to impress him," Jason recalled. "I would have done back flips off the Batmobile and onto the top of Arkham Asylum if I thought that would do it. Anything for even a smile. And now…I spar with him," Jason finished, his brow creasing slightly like it was still hard to believe.

They stood together for a few minutes, watching Dick and Tim on the uneven bars and just sharing a pleasant silence.

"Hey, Jason," Dick called, loping over to them with his easy athletic grace. He swiped at his brow with a towel that Alfred had supplied him with and asked, "When was the last time you gave Catwoman her shot?"

They hadn't known what to do with her since Bruce was at work and they couldn't exactly call in case someone overheard somehow so they had just knocked her out. Jason had been assigned the job by Tim and Stephanie and Cassandra and Dick had quickly agreed.

"An hour ago," he answered. "We're good for another, say, three hours?"

"I hope Bruce gets home by then," Cassandra put in, gazing wide-eyed at the woman tied to the cot by the stairs. "I kind of want to…you know."

Jason did know. He had been itching to take off her mask and goggles for the better part of the day and at the thought of it, his fingers twitched.

Then, regretfully, they stilled.

"No," he sighed. "We have to wait until Bruce gets home."

Dick could hardly believe his ears. Was this really Jason talking? Even now, he still had to pinch himself when he thought about how his brother had returned to them.

"Dick," Jason sounded exasperated as he waved an impatient hand over his brother's face. "Jesus, if only one of you would focus on what I'm saying…"

He trailed off muttering to himself about spacing out and time wasters.

"Sorry, Jason," Dick apologized. "I was just thinking about how I got you back."

"Back from what?"

"Just…back.

There was a brief silence where Jason tried to figure out what Dick was going on about and Cassandra became interested in examining Tim's flips.

"Oh," Jason responded flatly. "Is that something that you think about often?"

"Every morning I wake up, I think about how lucky I am to have you all," Dick answered. "So, in a way…yeah."

_Me too, _Jason thought. _Every single morning that I wake up._ He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was just saying that if we're going to unmask her, we should wait for Bruce to come home. Until then, we should head up; we've been down here for at least four or five hours."

"Sure," Dick agreed. "I'm starving. Tim," he called. "We're heading up."

"'Kay." Tim came running up at them, ending his sprint in a double summersault. "I tucked tighter, didn't I?"

"Sure did," Dick grinned. "Come on, Alfred's going to get you a celebratory snack."

"Where's Stephanie," Cassandra asked. She had left an hour ago to refill her water bottle and then announced that she was leaving for a nap in her room. "She must be up by now."

"It must be so boring being hurt," Tim shuddered.

"It is," all three of his companions echoed.

"All you do is lie in bed and wish you could do something," Dick wrinkled his nose, thinking about his last injury. It had involved a bullet wound, six inches of stitches, and a skin graft.

"It is such a pain," Cassandra agreed. "But the worst part is how useless you feel."

"By far," Jason concurred. He shook off the unpleasant thought. "Let's go up and make Stephanie feel useful then, shall we?"

_At work (Wayne Enterprises)…_

"Oh, Jesus," Bruce snarled in a fit of exasperation as a folder fell from under his arm and scattered over the floor of the crammed elevator.

Instantly, the papers were all put back into the folder, half a dozen pairs of hands eager to help their adored boss.

"Thanks," Bruce muttered lamely. He stepped out and into his office, pushing his files around as he half-listened to the man talking to him about the stocks and whatnot.

He straitened his tie and ran a tired hand through his hair. He hadn't been feeling right all day since that morning. He couldn't focus on anything, knowing she was still _there._

_How had she even gotten in?_

"Ah, Bruce," the older gentleman tapped him briskly. "Bruce? You with me here?"

"Yes," Bruce lied immediately, fixing his gaze on one of his oldest friends and colleagues, Lucius Fox. "Sorry, Lucius."

"That's alright," Lucius allowed, waving a hand as if brushing off Bruce's lack of concentration. "Now, like I was saying, the plane in the Research and Development department has been getting a lot of media attention and that was good for stocks…"

Bruce nodded absently. _She knows who I am, _he fretted. _I suppose I could erase her memory…_

He became aware that Lucius had stopped talking and he guiltily made eye contact with him. "Sorry," he apologized again. "I don't know what's gotten into me today…"

"Lady problems," Lucius nodded knowingly, a twinkle appearing in his eyes.

"You have no idea," Bruce muttered.

"So what's this special lady's name?"

"Selina."

"Pretty name. Is she a pretty lady?"

"Gorgeous," Bruce answered promptly. He wasn't sure exactly why he was discussing this with Lucius but he figured what the hell, it couldn't hurt.

"Hmmm," Lucius murmured. "Where did you meet her?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Bruce muttered.

"Maybe," Lucius laughed. He had his own suspicions about his boss's…nighttime activities, shall we say. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know what to do about her," Bruce admitted honestly.

"What does she want?"

"I don't know. I think she wants to stick around."

"What do you mean 'stick around'?"

"It's complicated. Well, frankly, it's ridiculous. Actually, it's…terrifying."

"Terrifying," Lucius repeated, stifling a small chuckle. If those few adjectives didn't sound like love, he didn't know what did. "Elaborate, please."

"See, she kind of came out of nowhere," Bruce hedged awkwardly. "I mean, I knew about her. I even met her a few times. Whenever we met, she always flirted with me but that's just who she is. She charms men. I think it's her hobby or something."

"Did she charm you," Lucius asked, raising a brow.

Bruce shifted slightly. "Not exactly. She _is _charming, don't get me wrong. But it was during a time when I couldn't afford to lose my focus so it didn't work."

"I see," Lucius nodded sagely. Then he shook his head. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bruce, I don't think I do."

"Now she's back," Bruce tried to make the other man understand. "And I'm not sure what to do about her."

"Do you want her to stay?"

"I don't know," Bruce repeated, feeling more than slightly desperate. "She knows stuff…that she shouldn't know…"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't have the faintest idea. I think I know what I _could _do but for some reason, I just don't _want _to."

"Then don't," Lucius offered. "Just do what your gut tells you."

He began to pack up his papers. "I can see you aren't going to get any work done now so I might as well try again tomorrow. Go home and think this over."

"Yeah," Bruce murmured.

"And Bruce?" Lucius stopped at the door, turning to face the multibillionaire.

"Yes?"

"I've never seen you so worked up over a woman. So if you want my opinion, keep this one," Lucius advised. He turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

Inside his office, Bruce let out a pitiful moan.


	4. It's Confusing

_Around five in the afternoon…_

"Master Richard, Miss Barbara Gordon is here," Alfred informed him, entering the room and managing to dodge a flaming cape just in time.

"See, if you snap it like this-" Tim demonstrated enthusiastically "-then the fire goes out just like that."

"Master Timothy, I will thank you not to set your Robin suit on fire."

Tim blushed. "Sorry, Alfred, I was just showing Jason my addition to the cape."

"I know," the butler smiled despite himself. He was prouder of his young charges than he could ever express but that didn't mean he could allow them to set their suits on fire.

"Hey, where's Dick," Jason asked suddenly. "He was just in here."

"He flew out the door as soon as he found out Babs was here," Tim smirked good-naturedly.

"When's dinner, Alfred," Jason yawned then nearly flinched when he saw Alfred's raised eyebrow. "Sorry."

"Quite alright. I'd say in the next half hour or so. Now, I have things to be doing and you should be catching up with Miss Gordon on your most recent activities."

"Sure, Alfred," Tim agreed, following them both out of the living room and into the kitchen where Dick was excitedly informing Barbara of the latest happenings.

"And now she's in the cave, unconscious," he finished dramatically.

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "What did Bruce tell you to do about her?"

"He didn't say anything about it," Jason told her, doing a flip over the table while Alfred wasn't looking and landing smoothly in the chair opposite. Then he gave her a grin. "And the best part? Before I came down, he was holding her bridal-style, looking completely lost."

"Elaborate," Barbara demanded, accepting a sugar cookie from Alfred with murmured thanks. "Lost in what way?"

"He looked like he had no idea what to do next," Jason shared gleefully. He reached over for a cookie and bit into it. "After I asked him what was going on, he told me, very unwillingly I might add, that he had made out with her as a 'distraction method'." He let out a disbelieving snort and exchanged a grin with Dick.

Barbara let out a hoot of laughter. "Has he erased her memory?"

"Not yet," Tim informed her. "He left for work in a rush because we were teasing him about it."

His lips twitched at the thought of that day's breakfast while his brothers openly howled with laughter.

"So what's the plan?"

"Who knows," Dick shrugged. "Probably going to end up wiping her memory anyway. I wonder why he didn't do it yet."

"I think he likes her," Stephanie confided, slipping into a seat near Barbara and massaging her ankle.

"Damn," Barbara whistled, impressed. "A broken ankle and I still didn't hear you. Pretty good, even for you, Steph."

Stephanie grinned mischievously. "Thanks. I was practicing earlier. So, did they tell you everything," she asked, gesturing towards her brothers and her crush, who was carefully avoiding eye contact with her. Stephanie decided not to read too much into it. Barbara nodded.

After all, Tim might be stressed or tired or something, not necessarily angry at her for something. Because really, what could she have done when the only time in the entire day yesterday, she had spoken to him about a girl in her school and they had actually connected over that so it wouldn't make any sense to hate her for it, would it? Then again, maybe he didn't hate her, maybe he was just tired from staying up late last night. Or maybe he was angry at her because he was off patrol as long as her ankle took to heal. Her stomach took a swoop at the thought. But that would be really unfair since she hadn't done it on purpose-

Dick cleared his throat then gestured for her to sit down. Right. It turned out that Stephanie Brown was incapable of not reading too far into Tim Drake's every waking movement. "I take it you were filled in about why we're all home?"

"Yeah," Barbara smiled, nibbling at another cookie. "Where's Cass?"

"She's taking a shower," Jason answered.

"Mmm," Barbara murmured, nodding again. "So. Should we harass Bruce when he gets home or leave him to struggle alone?"

"That could be a really awkward conversation," Jason hedged. "Which one of us is willing to talk about his love life to his face?"

"We spend plenty of time talking about it behind his back," Dick pointed out. "How much worse can it be?"

There was a brief silence where they exchanged glances around the table, no one speaking. "Well, okay, you've got a point," Dick conceded as though there had been an actual verbal rebut.

"Dick, you know him best," Barbara nudged him with her elbow, blue eyes sparkling with good humor. "Why don't you-"

"Don't even joke like that," Dick said immediately. "Seriously. That is a conversation I point blank refuse to have with him."

"Okay, okay, keep your shirt on," Barbara laughed.

"But you're always telling him to take it off," Tim teased.

Instead of blushing, Barbara grinned widely, shrugging a slender shoulder. "Can't help it if Grayson has a slammin' body."

"And fantastic hair," Stephanie added, a teasing smile lighting up her face.

"And gorgeous deep sapphire eyes that are like windows into his soul, and what a beautiful soul it is," Jason threw in sarcastically.

Dick, who would have carved out previously mentioned eyes with a foot long butcher knife before he blushed at such comments, merely smirked, batting long lashes in mock modesty. "Am I really so impossibly handsome, Jason?"

Jason rolled his eyes, shaking head as he did so. "Babs, you shouldn't say that kind of stuff. It blows up his already enormous ego."

"When you've got a body like his, you're somewhat entitled," Barbara considered.

"Oh, please, Dick's body can't hold a candle to mine," Jason snorted. He licked crumbs off his fingers then rose to wash his hands in the sink.

"Prove it then," Dick challenged.

Jason paused in the middle of drying his hands. "How?"

"Striptease," Stephanie joked, taking a sip of lemonade.

"Hey, there's an idea," Barbara said suddenly, eyes brightening.

Tim whipped around to face her so fast Stephanie could have sworn she heard a _crick_. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. That would be hilarious. Not to mention great entertainment," Barbara purred, flicking the tip of her tongue to her top lip. She eyed Dick suggestively, an eyebrow raised.

"Don't objectify me," Jason objected, his expression half horrified and half amused. He folded the towel back onto the hook and crossed to the table. "You want a striptease? Between Dick and I?"

Tim watched with the feeling that one got when watching two trains about to collide. "I don't think this is a good idea," Tim opined. "I mean it. This could get weird."

"I'm in if you are," Dick said casually.

"_What_?" Jason stared at his brother with an expression of utmost shock.

"You heard me. This will be the end to the eternal argument about you having the best body in the house." Dick shrugged, biting into an apple. "Why not?"

"Okay," Jason replied uncertainly. "When?"

"Tonight," Stephanie threw in. "No point in putting it off, is there?"

"I suppose not. So…how are we doing this," Jason asked cautiously.

"Well. We have a few choices." Barbara tapped a finger against her chin. "We could do it here, of course."

"I don't think so," Stephanie said slowly. "That would be…bad."

"I agree," Tim concurred, sighing. "If you guys are really going through with this, I suppose we should do it right."

"What do you mean," Dick asked, brow raised.

"I mean, do it for real. Like, at a club or something."

Jason's jaw nearly hit the floor of the kitchen. "A _club_? _Seriously?"_

"Just for one night," Tim shrugged. "Of course, if that _intimidates _you, you could always-"

"Hold it right there, Timmy," Jason drawled. His emerald green eyes glittered with challenge and amusement. "Who said I was scared?"

Tim raised his own brows in reply. "Which club then?"

"There's one place by twenty third street," Barbara put in. "They normally wouldn't do this kind of thing but I'm sure we could persuade them. And you two are pretty damn gorgeous so they won't say no. By one or two in the morning, girls will be pouring in to see you."

"I don't feel comfortable with that," Dick said awkwardly. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans, trying to keep his discomfort from showing.

"How about the Iceberg Lounge," Stephanie suggested.

"I frankly don't care," Jason told her. "Anywhere, anytime, whatever."

Tim sighed again. "Might as well just be Iceberg Lounge then," he said.

"Alright, fine, whatever," Dick caved, a hilariously uncomfortable expression on his handsome face. "We're going to be the 'VIP entertainment'?"

"Yeah, sure," Jason shrugged, taking a sip of his lemonade. "It'll be hilarious. Come on, Dick, won't it be fun having girls trampling each other to shove dollar bills into your G-string?"

The look on Dick's face made Jason's day.

"You competing, Tim?"

"No, I'm fifteen. That's gross."

"Not to mention illegal," Stephanie added. She wasn't quite sure that she was comfortable with Tim joining his older brothers in this night of X-rated fun.

"Alright then, tonight starting at seven."

Cassandra sauntered down the staircase to the kitchen, a fluffy cream towel wrapped around her wet hair. "So. What did I miss?"

They exchanged glances then all turned to Barbara. "Oh, fine, then. I'll explain. But I warn you, Cass, it's a bit of a confusing tale."


	5. It's Exhilarating

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about this," Dick muttered uncertainly from the back of the limousine.

"I'm not surprised, sir," Alfred replied dryly. "You are about to break generations of Wayne traditions."

"It sounded like a better idea before I got into the car," Dick moaned, his face falling into his hands.

"Don't be a wimp," Barbara scolded. "You agreed to it. Now follow through."

"Yeah, don't chicken out," Stephanie added. "We're all here, aren't we?"

Dick merely groaned in response.

"Be a man," Jason clapped him on the back. Hard. "Come on, Dick. This is going to be _fun_."

"What I don't understand," Dick said, his words muffled by his fingers. "Is why Tim is even here."

"Personally, I wouldn't have chosen to be here. But, well, I'm here to show support and moral," Tim sighed. He ran his fingers along the buttery leather of the seats, a cocktail of apprehension and annoyance bubbling in his gut.

"What are _you _stressed about," Jason quipped. "You aren't doing anything but watching."

Tim merely shrugged, the anxiety in his stomach reaching record levels. "You guys aren't going to be the only ones in there, you know."

"Yeah, of course."

Tim shrugged again. They _were _going to a club, after all. _What if someone caught Stephanie's eye…_

He shook himself after a few tortured seconds. If that wasn't ridiculous and obsessive, he didn't know what was. Clearing his throat and managing to avoid eye contact with everyone in the vehicle, he asked the moon-roof, "How are we deciding the winner?"

"I guess whoever gets the most tips," Barbara decided flippantly. "That's fair, right?"

"Sure," Jason agreed. He shot his older brother a mischievous grin. "That is, if Dick doesn't have a problem with it?"

"Shut up, Jason."

"Come on, Dick, this is your first night as a stripper."

"Someone hand me a shot."

Tim passed him an entire bottle of Stoli, patting him on the back in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, in just a few moments, after our singer, prepare yourselves for…Chuck and Dale!"

"Babs and Stephanie couldn't have thought up a faker sounding name," Dick murmured to Jason as he kicked off his shoes.

Jason paused halfway through folding his socks. "We're strippers, Dick. You think women strippers' real names are Jasmine and Crystal?"

Dick pretended not to hear. "Does Babs have the costumes?"

"Yup, she and Stephanie should be bringing them in any second now."

As if on cue, Barbara walked into the dressing room, costumes laid out over her arms. "Babs, I could have been naked," Dick yelped.

"I've seen you naked and in about five minutes so is everyone else in the building," Barbara replied dryly. "As for Jason, I doubt he cares."

"Not at all," Jason agreed. He took the costumes out of her hands and asked, "So…do we have choreography or what?"

"Well, you're dancing to Womanizer but there wasn't time to come up with a dance so…improvise."

"Great, I can improvise."

"How the hell do you put this thing on?" Dick stared at his costume in bewilderment. "Why are there so many straps?"

"It's all I could find on the fly," Barbara defended. She helped him into it then pushed him towards a mirror. "Well?"

"Oh my God. I'm a stripper."

Jason stared at him. "Yeah. That's why we're here."

"Oh my God."

"Are you getting stage fright," Jason asked, delighted. "You're an acrobat, for God's sake!"

"This is different. I need more vodka."

"Oh, no, pretty boy. You get any more alcohol in your system and you aren't going to be able to do a thing out there."

"So what are these costumes supposed to be?"

"I think it's supposed to be like a sexy thief who charms women type of deal," Barbara explained dubiously.

"I didn't do anything to deserve this," Dick moaned.

Cobblepot popped his head into the room. "You two are on in two minutes."

"Yes, thank you," Dick raised a hand in weak acknowledgment. "Thanks for giving us this opportunity, too, by the way."

"No problem, boys. You'll bring me a full house tonight, in any case."

He left to announce the next performance.

Jason got dressed, tugging at his costume. "Are we going to get in the crowd?"

"No," Dick said firmly. Or rather, as firmly as was possible while sounding as though he wanted to throw up.

"It'll be fun," Jason wheedled.

_"No."_

"Well, fine, you stay on the stage but I'll wind up getting the most tips in the end," Jason smirked, knowing he had won.

"Ugh! I hate you."

Barbara shooed them to the side of the stage, Dick giving her the Bambi pleading look. "No, Dick, you wanted to prove Jason wrong and this is your chance. Too late to change your mind," she said stubbornly. "Just have fun."

Dick merely nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Tim, Stephanie and I will be in the crowd," she instructed. "Don't make eye contact. Just try to get the most tips. Same goes for you Jason."

Jason nodded as well, green eyes lit up with excitement. "Okay, let's do it."

"I give you…Chuck and Dale!"

Jason and Dick entered on stage a few seconds after Cobblepot left. Jason was the first to grab hold of the microphone.

"Ladies, I see a full house tonight. Are you excited?"

The answering roar almost made Dick lose hearing in both ears.

He hoped to God Jason knew what he was doing because he sure as hell didn't.

Jason toyed with the crowd for a while then set the microphone back onto the stand then moved it to the back of the stage. The lights dimmed to nearly completely black except for the glaring brightness of the stage lights and the song began.

The song skipped over the short instrumental in the beginning to plunge straight into the first verse.

_Superstar, where you from? How's it going? _

_I know you got a clue what you're doing _

_You can play brand new to all the other chicks out here _

_But I know what you are, what you are, baby_

Without wasting any time, Jason went straight into a triple back handspring series down the catwalk, ending it in a back bend. Lowering himself backwards onto the strip of stage that allowed both sides of the crowd to watch, he arched his back far enough to force himself onto the balls of his feet and brought his hands to rest just behind his ankles.

The applause this position brought was astonishing.

_Look at you gettin' more than just a re-up _

_Baby, you got all the puppets with their strings up _

_Fakin' like a good one but I call 'em like I see 'em _

_I know what you are, what you are, baby_

A smirk adorning him like a crown, Jason brought his legs into a perfectly straight a hundred and eighty degree split, balancing himself on his elbows as he did so. Then switched legs easily and carelessly.

In response, a gang of women had tossed an assortment of lingerie onto the stage.

_Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer _

_Oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer baby _

_You, you-you are, you, you-you are _

_Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer (Womanizer)_

Gracing them with a positively wolfish grin, Jason proceeded to take off his jacket, lowering the zipper inch by inch, slower by the tempo of the music.

"Take it off," a table of women screamed.

Stifling a laugh, Jason unzipped it the rest of the way and threw it to the table of screaming women, who nearly began a war over who kept it.

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are _

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are_

Meanwhile, Dick had collected a wad of twenties for his flawless break dance.

Jason touched his tongue to his top lip and a woman threw a hundred dollar bill at him, which he caught deftly in his left hand. His hand dropped to the hem of his shirt and began to inch it up.

Immediately, he was hit with a storm of twenties and fifties. He tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans then raised a hand to finger the knot of his tie.

_(You!) You got me goin' (You!) You're oh so charmin' _

_(You!) But I can't do it (You!) You womanizer_

"Is it just me or is it getting hot in here," he shouted and a hollering stampede of women answered a chorus of, "It's hot as hell!"

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are _

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are_

Swallowing a chuckle, Dick began to strip off his own jacket, pretending to debate over whom to throw it to. Crowds of women rose to receive it, arms waving like crazy to try to catch it.

Dick flexed his back then leaned backwards, his chin facing the audience. The hem of his t-shirt fell up to expose a set of flawless abs.

An absolute storm of bills were thrown at him.

_(You!) You say I'm crazy (You!) I got your crazy _

_(You!) You're nothing but a (You!) Womanizer_

_Daddy-O, you got the swagger of a champion _

_Too bad for you, you just can't find the right companion _

_I guess when you have one too many, makes it hard, it could be easy _

_Who you are, that's just who you are, baby_

Jason crossed his arms at the waist and pulled it off, revealing exactly what a lifetime of acrobatics and fight training would get you.

A slews of bras flew through the air and nearly hit him in the face.

_Lollipop, must mistake me you're the sucker _

_To think that I would be a victim not another _

_Say it, play it how you want it _

_But no way I'm never gonna fall for you, never you, baby  
Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer _

_Oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer baby _

_You, you-you are, you, you-you are _

_Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer (Womanizer)_

As the chorus hit, Jason executed a back handspring, throwing an extra lip in before he hit the ground. He landed among the tables, snagging a woman nearly shrieking with excitement around the waist and sent her back into a low dip.

As soon as he righted her, Jason was attacked by a crowd of women thrusting bills into his back pockets.

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are _

_Boy don't try to front I-I know just-just what you are are-are  
(You!) You got me goin' (You!) You're oh so charmin' _

_(You!) But I can't do it (You!) You womanizer_

Dick also flipped into the crowd, a quadruple somersault sending a woman into a state of shock. He whispered something into one of the women's ear, causing her to giggle madly and press her thong into his hand.

_Maybe if we both lived in a different world, yeah (Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer, womanizer) _

_It would be all good and maybe I could be your girl _

_But I can't, 'cause we don't, you!  
Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer _

_Oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer baby You, you-you are, you, you-you are _

_Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer (Womanizer)_

The end of the song came far too early for the crowd and Jason and Dick took a few bows before ducking into the back again, greeted by the sight of a grinning Stephanie, Tim and Barbara.

"Here's your shot, pretty boy," Barbara laughed, pressing a flask into his hand and a kiss to his lips.

"That was exhilarating," Jason whooped. "I want to do it all over again!"

"I'm sure," Dick quipped. "Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Now…to see who won."

**Author's Note: Please leave a review if you read this, it doesn't have to be extensive. Just a simple "I liked it," or "I didn't like it," "It was okay," to let me know people are still reading. And please tell me who you think won. Thank you for your support. **


	6. It's Perfect

"Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty," Jason counted out aloud, separating his bills into a rapidly increasing stack. "And oh, Dick, look what I've got here."

He waggled a hundred dollar bill in front of his older brother.

"Well, so far I've got three hundred and ten," Dick stated, ignoring his brother. "Plus two thongs, three bras and six phone numbers."

Barbara approached, a large hefty bag in hand. "Rip the phone numbers off the bras and toss the lingerie in here," she commanded.

"Please donate those," Tim groaned. "If there's one nice thing to come out of donate, we should donate those."

Jason thrust a tangle of black silk lingerie into his hands. "Tim, do me a favor and untangle this for me."

"No, ew, I'm not touching that," Tim yelped, leaping off the edge of Jason's bed where he had been perched. "Get Stephanie to do it!"

"Hell, no," Stephanie refused firmly. "I don't know _who's _ass that was touching."

"Oh, God, the mental images," Tim whimpered. "I've been scarred."

"No, but you will be," Jason informed him, thrusting it back into his hands. "Help out, Tim, I've got to finish counting these bills."

"There are worse jobs," Barbara reminded him. "You could have been the one explaining to Alfred that Dick and Jason were going to be stripping at the Iceberg Lounge."

Stephanie and Tim shuddered in horror. "Fine, I'll do it," Tim replied, trying to stop the image of Alfred's expression from entering his mind.

"Well, I'm done," Dick announced. "I've got four hundred sixty five dollars."

"I've got five hundred and twenty dollars." Jason looked up, smirk adorning his handsome features. "I win, pretty boy."

"No way," Dick groaned. He reached over for Jason's tips. "Let me count those."

As Dick recounted Jason's tips, Tim and Barbara grappled over the best way to disentangle the bra straps from the lace of thongs. Stephanie looked over Dick's shoulder as he counted out the bills, his brow furrowed with concentration.

"Actually, Jason was wrong," Dick said sadly.

"What? I was not."

"You made five hundred and thirty dollars, Jason. You misplaced a ten somewhere."

"That's the kind of mistake I like," Jason whooped. Tim clapped him on the back, shaking his head but grinning as he did so.

"So what are we going to do with our winnings?"

"I was thinking something kind of ironic," Jason said thoughtfully, eyes glittering with mischief. "How about at a strip club?"

"Brilliant idea," Dick replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Except for the fact that I have a _girlfriend_."

"Oh, well, if your girlfriend doesn't care that you strip at a club, why should she care that you're _going_ to a strip club?"

"Because there is a difference," Barbara interrupted, blue eyes flashing. "One is a joke, the other is…not."

"Fine, whatever," Jason defended, holding his hands up in defeat. "Tim will come with me."

"But that would be illegal," Stephanie interrupted hastily. "Not to mention, Tim has more class than to go to a club."

"You could always ask Alfred to go with you," Tim told Jason mock sweetly, blinking long lashes innocently.

Jason threw a random bra at him, this one strapless. "Oh, go flirt with Stephanie, you loser," he scowled.

There was a moment of deathly silence where everyone avoided eye contact with each other and Jason beamed at his stack of bills before realizing that something was wrong. Spinning to face Tim, he asked innocently, "What? What did I say?"

Tim made an awkward flapping gesture with his hands. "Jason…"

"What? I didn't do anything," Jason defended immediately, trying to hide his nervousness. "Oh." His expression cleared at once. "Are you two not dating yet?"

"Oh, God," Stephanie finally muttered.

"This beyond even him, Steph," Barbara told her sadly. "When Jason opens his mouth, there is no telling what could come out."

"I just…the way you two were acting with each other, it seemed natural to assume that-"

"Okay, Jason," Dick interrupted, taking his brother by the shoulders and dragging him out of the room. "Let's go to the club, shall we?"

"But you just said-"

Barbara hurried after them, clamping a hand over Jason's mouth. "You have lost speaking privileges," she told him sternly.

"Mmfknf," Jason protested.

"I understand…" Barbara soothed.

The three left, leaving behind an extremely awkward Tim and Stephanie.

"Well, I'll just leave, too, then, shan't I?" Stephanie scrambled to her feet and fairly lunged toward the door, her mind screaming an assortment of very impressive swear words, before Tim's voice interrupted her.

"Stephanie."

She swallowed hard, turning slowly. "Yeeess?"

"You just said the word 'shan't.'"

"So I did," she acknowledged idiotically, her glossy blonde head bobbing up and down. "You know what, I think I'll just give Jason his money before he goes clubbing…"

She randomly scooped up a fistful of twenties and shook it with the air of a madman. "Yeah, I'll just-"

"Come on, don't be like that."

Stephanie nearly swallowed her tongue in shock. Was this _Tim _talking? "Ah…"

"What I mean is, Jason wasn't, you know, that far off, right?"

"Well, I mean, you know…"

"Tell me."

"I, uh, like, I, um, God, this is awkward," Stephanie blurted out, still clutching the fistful of cash.

"I'm kind of tired of screwing around like this so...if you would just tell me what you think then maybe we could, you know, move on or…something…"

It was amazing how many times a person could say the words like, so, um, ah, er, you know, or I mean when trying to avoid actually saying anything at all.

"What I'm trying to say," Stephanie fumbled for words. "Is that…well, I mean…"

Tim waited patiently for her to get her thoughts together. _Jesus_, Stephanie thought. _How could talking to Tim be so much harder than_ _patrol at midnight in Gotham?_

She took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, controlled. "I like you," she declared bluntly. "But…I don't know if this is really such a good idea."

"What is?"

Tim's face was blank, carefully erased of expression. Stephanie didn't know if she should be discouraged by that or encouraged. Her fingers dug half moon cuts into her palm as she clenched her fists. "You know, us," she replied awkwardly. "We've got responsibilities and school and patrol and…"

Tim got up off the bed, expression still blank. He came close enough to count the lashes on her lids and Stephanie began stumbling for words again. "I mean, obviously, I like you," she stated defensively. "You're smart and funny and…you're in this _life _which makes it so much easier, you know, and I feel like maybe we've got a connection but maybe I'm just imagining things and I don't even know what…"

Tim was barely three inches away, head tilted in that curious way of his when focusing intently on something. Stephanie's heart stuttered to a halt then revved into a massive pounding. "..and I think we might be able to work out pretty well, despite everything, and I don't think I could work out with anyone else, honestly, besides you, because you're just amazing and I adore pretty much everything about you and dear God, I am humiliating myself-"

Stephanie was silenced by Tim pressing a finger to her lips for a second. "Okay. I think I get it."

Stephanie's blue eyes widened drastically. Had she just metaphorically died by her own sword? By her own words? She tried to say something but Tim shushed her. "Hey, Steph," he murmured softly. "Me too."

He was barely two inches taller than she was but it was still tall enough for them to have that cliché moment where they both looked into each other's eyes and all that romantic comedy gushy stuff that probably would have made Jason throw his guts up but really, who cared about Jason when they were right in this moment besides the fact, of course, that Jason was the one who was solely responsible for this very moment and they were both so utterly humiliated and embarrassed and happy and shocked and-

Tim dipped his head down to kiss her.

And it was perfect.

* * *

**We're close to the end so please leave a comment to tell me what you think about Tim and Stephanie! Also, more Selina and Bruce coming up soon!**


	7. It's Love

"What could Bruce possibly want with all of us," Barbara asked Dick as they made their way down the stairs of the Batcave.

Dick shrugged but Jason muttered darkly, "I bet it's something to do with Catwoman."

"Maybe," Cassandra murmured from his left. "She's been down here for two days. He must have gotten something out of her by this time."

"Maybe he's wiped her memory," Stephanie suggested. Tim nodded, his arm wrapped loosely around her slim waist.

Jason shot them a smirk from over his shoulder, a suggestive glint shimmering in his emerald green eyes. "So…I take it you two are officially an item?"

"No one says that," Tim groaned. "An item? Really, Jason?"

"Hey, for a man who has been dead for five years, Jason has a good idea of what's happening in modern love lives," Barbara defended.

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "What she said."

They traipsed down the stairs and came to a halt in the main standing area. Jason's eyes narrowed then widened dramatically as he noticed Catwoman perched on a chair, long fingernails tapping the table she sat nearby edgily. A steel handcuff wrapped tightly around her wrist and chained her to the table.

As they watched shocked, she curved chapped lips and sent them a carefully constructed grin. Her skin was pale from being in the cave for two days and under a bunch of drugs and her hair was dull and flat on one side but she was still a knockout.

"Hey," she greeted, waggling her free hand at them. "How are you all?"

Tim's hand shot into his jacket pocket and slipped on a pair of sunglasses at record speed, face flushing in shock. "Bru-Batman," he called warily. "What is going on?"

"Oh, don't worry about names," she laughed. "It's not like I don't know." She paused for a second before adding, "Tim."

Tim let out an expletive then angrily tucked his sunglasses back into his pocket. "So, now would be a good time to tell us what's happening, _Bruce."_

Bruce hurried into the light from his position in the corner of the room. "Ah, hello," he greeted awkwardly.

"Bruce, why does she know our names," Barbara asked flatly.

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "What she said."

They threw him disgruntled looks before returning their attention to Bruce, who was looking more uncomfortable by the nanosecond. "Well," he began. "I decided that Catwoman, ahem, Selina Kyle, is a worthy addition to our team."

"This is bullshit," Jason muttered darkly at Dick, who nodded sharply in agreement.

Bruce frowned at Jason's mutinous expression and continued, "Like I was saying, _Jason. _Selina could prove herself to be extremely useful in combat and strategy planning. She can get places we can't."

"Like your bed?"

Dick stifled a laugh and Tim gave an extremely unconvincing cough from which a few snorts of laughter could definitely be distinguished. Cassandra looked confused while Stephanie tucked her tongue firmly into her cheek, furiously trying to keep a straight face. Barbara was the only one still gazing at Selina, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I seriously doubt that she is trustworthy," Barbara told Bruce skeptically. "We don't need another member on this team. Besides, she's a thief. We can't trust her."

"I've decided that we can."

"Why?" Barbara stared at him in bewilderment, hands fisting at her jean clad hips.

"Because of reasons I have already stated," Bruce bluffed awkwardly.

Barbara's eyes were nearly slits at this point. "What has she done to gain your trust? What has she told you?"

"Nothing," Bruce insisted. "She's perfectly reliable."

"Maybe perfectly bang-able," Jason quipped quietly.

"_Jason_."

"Right, sorry," he muttered, irked. Cassandra still looked bewildered at their reactions to Jason's comments.

"The point is that Selina is a valuable, intelligent, charming individual who can be of great use to our team."

Jason tucked his tongue firmly in cheek to check the urge to shoot off yet another innuendo and Dick and Barbara exchanged wary expressions. Stephanie and Tim looked as though they couldn't care less about Selina Kyle as long as they could go back to making out. And Cassandra was still trying to figure out what Jason's comments had meant.

Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face wearily. "If you have any questions, talk to me later," he dismissed them.

No one moved. "If you trust her so much, then why is she handcuffed," Barbara challenged.

"Just a precaution," Bruce shrugged.

"You're being unreasonable," Dick told him. He made to take another step forward but Jason snagged his arm.

"Just leave it, Dick," Jason told him. "Come on, let's spend our earnings."

They turned to go upstairs when Bruce asked, "What earnings?"

"Oh, Lord," Stephanie muttered.

"We went to the Iceberg Lounge and stripped for rich women," Jason informed him bluntly. Barbara hid her face with her hands and Tim choked on a laugh. Even Cassandra could figure out that Jason had just dropped a bombshell.

Dick hurried to do damage control. "It's not what it sounds like."

Bruce was interrupted by Selina's chuckle. "Leave them alone," she laughed. "They're kids. Let them have fun. They aren't hurting anyone."

She reached out to him and grabbed him by his tie, bringing his head down for a kiss.

"Ew," Stephanie squealed. She grabbed Tim's hand and ran upstairs, yelping. Cassandra made a face and hurried upstairs with Barbara, who was scowling.

Jason and Dick were left awkwardly last. "Come on, Dick," Jason muttered. "This strikes me as a good time to leave."

Dick didn't move. "You know, this is actually very…" Dick trailed off, seemingly thinking about something.

"What?"

Dick ignored his brother's impatience and continued, "This is rather…"

"Messed up, I know," Jason declared. "Can we go now?"

"It's love," Dick finally decided. He looked at his brother, beaming. "It's love, Jason."

* * *

**A/N: It's finally the end! If you haven't reviewed yet, this is your last chance so I would take it if I were you! Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Special thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Finally...**

**Love is complicated, ridiculous, terrifying, confusing, exhilarating, and perfect.**


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